One Time,At Band Camp
by Inuismyhomeboi
Summary: We all know the joke One time, At Band Camp... and then we insert something stupid...but what really does happen at Band Camp? And why does everyone think its so darn funny? Well, i have the real story, and what really happened,It's interesting. SS,ET
1. 1: One time, At Band Camp

_**Hey all! Oh yes! I AM back, with a new story. This one, I though of with another **_

_**one that I will post up later. This one, was an inspired work, from all my TAG **_

_**friends ranting about going to band camp this summer . Now, I do not play an **_

_**instrument nor am I in band... so cut me some slack . But again, this is a fic, so I **_

_**have a right to mess with stuff! Anywho, here we go!**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own CCS. Okay? I don't, unfortunately, I wish I did tho, cause I **

**luff Syaoran. Anywho, again, I don't own CCS or any songs, quotes lyrics, etcetera, **

**etcetera. Okay, carry on.**

One Time, At Band Camp...

_Kirra H._

Band camp, a two week getaway of fun and musical appreciation. At least, that's how our

Band Director, Chiharu saw it. In all actuality, it was indeed a two week getaway... from

parents and annoying neighbors, and It was fun, in a sense, but we were all here for one

reason; The competition. See, every summer, High School Bands from all over the country

gather here, at Band Camp, for two weeks chock full of practicing and coming up with their

best routine possible. The last few days of camp, the camps directors hold the competition.

The prize is 10,000 dollars that will go towards the schools music program. Students also

compete individually in a solo piece or have to option to do a duet, with the prize being a

free ride scholarship to the musical institution of your choice. Sounds cool, right? And easy,

all the same. That's what we all were thinking on the eight and a half hour bus ride here, but

when we pulled past those big wooden posts, boasting it's large and welcoming sign, and we

saw twenty some busses awaiting orders to high tail it out of there, we swallowed down any

chance that this would be easy and tried hard to silence the butterflies swarming around

angrily in the pits of our stomachs. I stepped off the bus and sighed loudly, shuffling over to

the bus behind us, which carried all of our stuff; duffel bags crammed full of personal

necessities in the cargo hold...thing... and on the seats themselves, our instruments thrown

sloppily wherever there was room. I found my two duffels easily, seeing as they were the

only ones that were electric blue with neon green lettering, but the inside of the bus was sheer

madness. Everyone's things were in black cases, the only differences being the nametags on

the back of them. Among that mess, there were ten flutes, one of them being mine, and six

violins, again, one of them being mine. The violin was easy to find, it turns out mine was the

only one being held together with duct tape, and my flute, after everyone had grabbed theirs,

was crammed between a tube case and Casey's amp for her electric guitar. Yes, we do

have a guitarist in our schools band, and she kicks ass.

Once again outside, I took a few minutes to scope out the competition. The two most

obvious schools, I could tell would most likely fall out early on. They were private schools,

uniformed and sweaty in the 95 degree weather. The one stood in single file lines, waiting

impatiently to retrieve their equipment, a strict looking teacher at their side, tapping her

conductors baton angrily on her arm, threatening anyone who dare step out of her line.

Normally, I would be worried about them, but it was obvious that they would bomb. Their

director was far to strict. It made the players not only afraid that they would screw up, but it

made them tense and agitated. They would most likely screw up because with someone that

demanding, the pressure would crack them and they would tank. I felt bad, but it also

meant that we had a higher chance of winning, so I quickly tucked away that little strand of

emotion. The other school was a complete mess. The conductor looked like somebody

straight out of the sixties, stones, bloodshot eyes and all. The Students were pushing and

shoving their way around each other and often breaking out into fights. Unorganized and

sloppy, they would lose points for not only how well the band was composed, but for the

fact that they looked like crap too; the uniforms were all loose and looked a size too big for

all of them, and their constant quarreling would most likely ensue terrible complications when

the time came to compete. I can just see one of them getting angry at the other for messing

up a note and whapping them on the head with their instrument. Hilarious as it would be, it

would immediately cost them big points and even the slightest chance to win. Even now, ten

minutes after arrival, they had probably lost points, seeing as the camp directors, who served

as judges, watched our every move.

You see, the performances at the end are only most of the points. They rack up the biggest

amount of points, yes, but we also get points according to how we conduct ourselves during

our stay. We get points on everything from our entrance into the campgrounds, to our

practices, to our personal relations with other member of the band. Odd, yes, but hey, that's

how it works. I was extremely thankful for the fact that, not only did we have one of the

coolest instructors ever, but we all got along quite well and knew when to hold our tongues,

which would come in handy. There was one school, however, that I was worried about. The

bus read East River Academy. And they were, more or less, like us. A tad bit unorganized,

but nonetheless efficient in the time spent grabbing our things and I hadn't heard a complaint

yet, save for the director, who was bickering about the heat. I saw that they had a good deal

less people than we did, but that didn't mean that they would suck. In fact, they were

probably really good. The less people there are, the easier it is to direct them and make them

better. I saw the license plate read that they were from Maine and I had to laugh a little. It

was no wonder that the director was complaining about the heat. They were used to the cool

ocean breezes and constant crap weather. However, it was a known fact that Maine

schools, no matter the location, were good. Really good. Another school that posed a

possible threat, I saw, was from Cleveland. Not only were they organized to beat the boot,

but they were quiet, and at the same time, nearly jumping out of their skin with excitement.

But it wasn't their appearance that scared me, it was the knowledge that they were

renowned and held in high standard with anyone who had a brain. They held the title for

most amount of competitions won, 15 in case you were wondering, and were commended

for their originality and spirit, which would score big with the judges. One girl. A guitarist by

the look of it, saw me staring and smiled, immediately rushing over to me and skidding to a

halt in front of me, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process.

"Hi!" she greeted enthusiastically. I raised an eyebrow and attempted a grin.

"'lo" I said, picking up my violin case and switching it to the same hand as my flute. She

looked down at my cases and smiled.

"Flutist then, eh? And Violin, nice. I play the guitar myself. Bass. What's your name?" she

said, switching topics faster than I could come up with a reply.

"Sakura...and you?" I said, looking behind me to make sure everyone was still there.

"I'm Tomoyo. What school you guys from??" She asked, eyeing our busses speculatively.

"Tall Pines, Jersey. Um, I have to go, were getting ready to leave." I said, turning around.

She nodded and coughed at the dust clouds.

"Kay. See ya around!" she said, it sounded like a promise. I caught up with the rest of my

band and fell in step with Risa, another Flutist and good friend of mine. She smiled and

looked behind her quickly. "Who was that?" she asked, nodding towards the girl, who was

running back to her bus. I shrugged.

"Dunno, she said her name was Tomoyo. They're from Cleveland." I said, switching hands

and shrugging my duffel bags onto my shoulder.

"Ohh, fancy." she said lightly. I laughed and shook my head.

"yea, fancy. Sure. So what do you think Chiharu is gonna get us to do this year?" I asked

with a small grin. She shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"Who knows. That woman is so unbearably indecisive... its crazy." she said and I nodded in

complete agreement. One of my duffel bags slid off of my shoulder and I sighed, turning

around and picking it up. But, like always... I ran into something, or in this case someone, as

I stood back up. It was a head on head collision... semi painful, sending us both groaning.

"Ow...Oh! I am really sorry! You okay?" I spazzed, praying I didn't terminally hurt the kid.

He nodded and stood up, dusting off the back of his pants.

"Yea. Ow... My God, what's your head made of, concrete?" he said standing back up and

looking at me with an implacable expression. I laughed.

"I'm sure some will say so. But I am sorry." I said, grabbing not only my bag, but his and

handing it to him.

"Thanks." he said, shrugging it onto his shoulder. I nodded and hoisted my own onto my arm.

"Well, later." I said, making to turn around and catch up with everyone else, who were

considerably farther away than before.

"Hey!" he called. I turned, not quite sure why though.

"What's your name? I like to keep tabs on my attackers." he joked. I couldn't help but

smile.

"It's Sakura...and you?" I called.

"Syaoran." I nodded.

"Cool. Bye!" I said running away. I thought I heard him laugh or something, but I didn't really

care. I had the strangest feeling that by the end of the summer, I would be able to fill in the

blanks to the ever popular 'One time, At Band Camp' starter.

* * *

**_Okay! What did you think? First chapter! I dunno if its really that good or not, but_**

**_I liked the idea and decided to run with it . Anywho. Review and tell me what you _**

**_think plz! T'Would mean a lot. Anywho, till next time then!_**

****

Ja!


	2. 2: So THIS is practice

**_Hey! Sorry for the horribly long wait for an update...I'm gonna' spend the next couple of weeks updating the stories I haven't worked on in a while. So you should be seeing a lot of me coming up here. Anyways, moving on!_**

**_Oh, quick note here. In the previous chapter when I called Tomoyo a 'Flutist' it should be Flautist. That's the proper term...thank you band geek friends-o-mine!_**

Chapter Two: So THIS is practice?

Last I checked, practice was this thing where you and your band members stand around and play instruments until your lungs collapse or else wise. Not THIS. This...was mayhem. I would consider it a miracle if my lungs were to just collapse. At least then I would be faced with the simple pleasantry of slipping into a coma or something. This was just plain torture. Chiharu came into our rooms this morning at five-thirty in the morning, screaming into her megaphone. She then chucked our instruments at us and marched us outside, pajama-clad and groggy-eyed. I shifted my violin case to my other hand and trudged up the hill to the practice hall with the rest of my sleep deprived comrades. We shuffled inside and immediately took our place on the stage, whereupon Chiharu began to bark.

"Welcome to Band Camp. This is no picnic, this is no stroll through the park or your average concert practice. We are going to be here EVERY morning, six AM to nine AM, so I suggest you re-arrange you sleeping schedules. If you think this is going to be a cakewalk because I'm your 'buddy'...you were seriously mislead. Sakura!?" she called randomly, snapping me out of my comatose state.

"Yes?" a grumbled, coughing and wiping my eye.

"What did your brother, Toya, say about band camp? Tell everyone else wont you, so you know why YOU aren't the least bit surprised?" she urged, staring me down with eyes that seemed to bulge out of their sockets.

"Oh. He said he loved it. But that 'you turned into the Bitch from Hell as soon as you stepped off of that yellow Twinkie of a bus we ride.' But only 'because we've won this competition four years running and you'll be damned if you get beat by some crummy division five football playing yahoos'." I recited perfectly. That was what he said, though. Word for word. Toya had never been more afraid for his life than when he went flat on one note a week before the competition during practice. He thought Chiharu was going to shove his saxophone up his nose. Chiharu stared at me blankly.

"He said that? REALLY?! Oh, I'm so proud of him. The boy learns well. How is he by the way?" she asked conversationally. But I knew what she was doing. Toya had warned me about this. And I have just realized to take heed to his many scrupulous warnings. I smiled and stifled a yawn before making my response.

"He's fine, thanks. But I don't think this is the right time for chit-chat." I finished, a look of awe spreading over her face.

"He really has taught you then. Good. But I don't think it will do you a lick of good. NOW THEN!" she barked, making the megaphone squeak and reverberate through the concert hall. I'm nearly positive my eardrums were shattered.

"Here...is your first piece of music. We will warm up this week and play some simple tunes, get back into the swing of things, but I want you all to have this piece memorized by next week. That means I had BETTER hear instruments going twenty-four seven in those cabins. Unless of course its ten-o-clock and your in bed. Though be warned that you better have that sheet music inside your head. I want you all to dream about playing this song." She said, coming around and handing us all a two page piece of music. I frowned. _Pachelbels Cannon in D_. She could have given us something SO much more challenging. Who does she think we are? 8th graders? I could play this song blindfolded and backwards. While driving a car with my feet, just for the hell of it.

"The competition consists of three parts: a Classical performance, a modern piece, and a stage performance. Something like marching band, only completely original and crazy. That's why I made you watch all those movies where the performances the bands give are impeccable and most likely impossible. Now, I know that you all this song left and right. But we are not performing this. Think of this as┘as a warm up. We will be performing something a bit more fun. But I wont tell you until later. Now then, there are also individual and duet performances available for scholarship prizes. If you want to perform a solo or a duet, you NEED to see ME by Saturday. No later! Got it??" We all screamed a resounding "Yup" and picked up our instruments.

By the time nine rolled around, we were all bleary eyed and arms were permanently stuck in the position required to play said instrument. I think Military School would be better than that. I made the sorry attempt to remove my chin from nearly touching my shoulder and winced as the muscles shifted in my arm. I think I heard something snap, but it turned out to be the next victims walking the Death March. To emphasize this matter, I trudged past slowly and hummed the ever-so-famous doom song. The group looked at me warily, but a familiar face, and laugh for that matter, confused me. I looked at Syaoran with hollow eyes and frowned.

"You wont be laughing in about five minutes bubs. I hope you have ice back in your room." I mumbled, and continued on with my solemn hum. I think the next two weeks were going to be a fate worse than death.

* * *

_**Okay! Chapter 2 up! What do you think? Hope you like it! It was kind of a quick write up, but oh well. Chapter three up soon, hopefully.  
Ja!  
Kirra**_


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